“I will suppose then, that everything I see is spurious. I will believe that my memory tells me lies, and that none of the things that it reports ever happened. I have no senses. Body, shape, extension, movement and place are chimeras. So what remains true? Perhaps just one fact, that nothing is certain.” Plato

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Is not beauty subjective? Isn’t it a social construction that is being propagated by a societies dominant paradigm and their propaganda machines? Isn’t ‘objective beauty’ far from what is ‘ideal’, external, apparent and superficial? Is a particular colour objectively beautiful? Is a variety of colours objectively beautiful? Is symmetry objectively beautiful? Are the models in TV objectively beautiful? Is somebody not very fat and not very thin objectively beautiful? Is a hairy woman or a man with a huge nose objectively ugly? Or does one characterise them so because of her/his ideas, education, environment, and influences? Or is everyone who feels differently, who disagrees with the above objectively wrong because a ‘trained elite’ says so? Can you be trained into recognising what is beautiful? Is judgement like a muscle which can be trained to perform better, or is it a totality of subjective ideas that are consolidated into a specific conceptual framework? Isn’t thus ‘beauty’ part of an ideology that can differ from person to person? — and more importantly — Can’t we change what is beautiful if we focus on different aspects of it? Wouldn’t a world be more equal and less discriminatory if we’d understand that our eyes are not adequate to render beauty objective; if–rather than argue, antagonise, and strive to be more beautiful–we choose to delve deeper into the beauty of simply being and not comparing, into the beauty of characteristics such as peacefulness, love, and solidarity? Haven’t those who achieved the latter also managed to move towards harmony with their community and environment? What keeps us from thinking like that? Objective proof and universal truths or ‘experts’, social structures, norms and rules?

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The road is not straight,
It weaves and turns
With many detours,
Joys, obstacle, fears and tears.
Sometimes turning back,
Revisiting with new eyes.
A place once visited is never the same,
We are never the same.
Our eyes see horizons
Through tempered glass,
Never pure, our sight remains
Forever blemished with our tears.